


Spring Fling

by the_grouch



Series: Keep it in the Fam [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Light Incest, Modern AU, Multi, Power Play, Smut, Threesome, sorority sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_grouch/pseuds/the_grouch
Summary: Written for the kinkmeme prompt: Clarke Dominating Octave.+finger fucking her mouth.++ gagging her on her fingers.+++bellamy watching his wifey "play" with his little sister.This leans hard into the third.





	

The Tri-delts go all out for their Spring Fling, with a keg in the back yard and a bar with sisters taking turns mixing up themed drinks like “Flower Power” in skimpy bunny costumes. Clarke’s already taken her turn, snagged an extra set of ears and kept the bikini with the fluffy tail on as she circled the party, just a printed silk cover-up pulled on over her top

She’s tipsy and in a good mood, and she finds Octavia in a brown crop top and tight, barely there booty shorts, long brown ears on her head instead of white, just coming in from outside. She lights up when she sees Clarke, face flushed from the heat outside and eyes bright.

“Counter culture?” Clarke asks with a tip of her head at her brown ears, passing Octavia the too-sweet, too-potent drink. Octavia just flashes Clarke her teeth and takes a sip, pretty lips lingering on the rim.

“I’m still a bunny,” she says. “Bunnies can be brown.”

“You’re a hare,” Bellamy says, coming up behind Clarke, his hand wrapping around her hip, fingers dipping into the bikini bottoms a little possessively, pinching lightly at Clarke’s hip. “All skin and bones. Bunnies have a little extra.”

Clarke looks up and wrinkles her nose at him and Bellamy nipes at it. He pulls her into his side, and offers her a swig from his beer bottle. His eyes track Clarke’s mouth when she closes her lips on the head of the bottle and he titls it carefully for her, giving her a mouthful before he pulls it away.

“Seriously,” Octavia mutters, trying to sound a little more put out than she looks, leaning back against the wall, shoulders rolled back and arms crossed under her chest, hips cocked. “You two are nauseating.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Clarke giggles, reaching out to tuck her fingers into Octavia’s belt loops. “You know I love you best.”

“Can’t see it from where I’m standing,” Octavia teases her, lifting an eyebrow and shaking her long dark hair back over her shoulder, pouting for show. Her lips are pink, in part from the gloss Octavia’s applied (the gloss Clarke knows tastes like strawberries, from the times she’s borrowed it, from the times she’s licked it off Octavia’s lips, drunk and giggling and hot) and in part because they just are that pink and sweet.

Clarke tracks the way Octavia lifts Clarke’s drink to her mouth, licks at the sugar and then sucks the rim of it. Clarke can’t tell if she’s trying to be provocative or just in her own world, a surprisingly innocent one gleaned from a gentle, if lonely childhood with Bellamy as her only companion before she got shipped off to foster care and then boarding school by her social worker when their mother passed.

“You need reminding?” Clarke laughs and leans in to playfully give Octavia a smacking kiss on her cheek. Giggles there at Octavia’s sound of mock-disgust and then kisses her again, at the corner of her mouth just to get a taste of her lip gloss. Bellamy’s hand spasms on her back and Octavia’s stomach muscles jump under Clarke’s fingers when she touches her.

She pulls back and grins at them both. Bellamy’s eyes are dark on her mouth and Clarke leans back into his space and kisses him. His stubble is rough against her upper lip and his hand digs into her hip as he holds her in place and kisses her back, licks the lip gloss off the center of her lips with a curious, hungry tongue. Clarke melts into his chest briefly loves kissing him, loves feeling his body against hers before she feels Octavia’s hand brush curiously over the place where the bunny tale rests against Clarke’s lower back.

It’s not new territory with either of them, but damn if it isn’t new to have it both at once and Clarke bites Bellamy’s lip, hard. Bellamy groans and lets her go, and Clarke turns her head to find Octavia there, all tense, coiled energy, big blue eyes and soft lips and skin where Bellamy is rough. Kissing Octavia always makes Clarke giggle, mostly because Octavia always smiles into kisses, delighted at the attention and affection, but she’s a fucking good kisser too. She teases her tongue against Clarke’s, sucks on it and then makes a pretty noise when Clarke nibbles at her lip.

Clarke comes away tasting like strawberries and barely has to turn her head before Bellamy is kissing her again, mouth fierce and a little mean as he sucks on her lower lip and huffs at the full taste. He lets her go, but holds her chin and smirks at her.

“Sister kisser,” he accuses fondly and Clarke laughs, hears Octavia snort behind her.

“Come on, Bell, don’t ruin it.”

“I’m not ruining anything,” Bellamy says, defending himself. He drags Clarke’s chin up for one more kiss and then lets her go, steps back and lifts his hands in the air, one still loosely curled around his beer bottle, in surrender. “See? I’m not getting in the way. Go on,” he urges them, eyes flicking between them, heavy on Clarke, and curious, tentative on Octavia. “I want to see.”

Clarke slings her arm around Octavia’s delicate shoulders and leans her weight into her friend, fingers the line of her throat. “Should we show him?” She asks conspiratorily in Octavia’s ear. “Show him how I take care of you?”

“He’ll be impossible if we don’t,” Octavia says and turns her face into Clarke, a little shy like Clarke’s known her to be, but the hand she walks across Clarke’s stomach is more than enough to betray her interest.

Bellamy follows them up stairs, snagging another beer from the cooler, and momentarily getting into an affectionate tussle with Miller. Clarke and Octavia entertain themselves as they wait for him, Octavia pressed up against the staircase wall, Clarke’s hands under her shirt and her tongue possessive in Octavia’s mouth.

Clarke’s room is on the top floor, a gem in the sorority house, with it’s attic like feel, a little larger than other singles, and cozy with it’s slanted ceiling and exposed beams. She’s got a full bed in one corner of the room, and an old rocking chair next to the vanity: a proverbial princess in her tower, as Bellamy likes to rib her. Bellamy makes a beeline for the chair and sprawls into its’ spindly back, thighs spread casually, cracking one beer open with his lighter.

Clarke pulls Octavia with her into the center of the room, and they’re still giggling as they trade kisses, their bunny ears getting tangled together, their hair getting caught in their mouths and Clarke’s bikini top strap.

“That’s pretty,” Bellamy says from the corner and Clarke snorts, pulls back from Octavia’s lips.

“Does the peanut gallery want to participate or watch?” She asks, and sneaks a hand down Octavia’s back, walking fingers under the waistline of her shorts. Octavia leans into Clarke’s body and Clarke sees the long look the Blake siblings trade.

It’s always something Clarke had been a little morbidly curious about. Raised out in the hicks by a paranoid mother, no other kids their age through long years of preteen and teenage years. Only natural to be curious, only natural to explore with someone you trust. Bellamy tracked his sister through the foster system, and then when he managed to come up with funds, consented to Octavia living in boarding school and visiting him on weekends. There’s a devotion between them that Clarke’s never seen, nor the charged emotion that comes with it, sometimes bombastic, sometimes tender.

Clarke likes it, likes that her boyfriend and best friend have a bond all of their own, a private one that she rarely has the desire to penetrate. This though, this she’s open to.

“Just watch,” Bellamy says finally, settling deeper into the chair, pressing his beer bottle into his thigh. “Like I said, wouldn’t want to get in the way.”

He’s backlit by the little lamp on Clarke’s vanity, so it almost feels like they’re in a spotlight when she pulls Octavia up to kiss her again. Octavia kisses back hungrily, curling her fingers into Clarke’s arms and pressing up against her. She’s always so sweet, so eager for Clarke and the way their tits press together. Clarke slides her hands up and down Octavia’s bare sides, light enough to raise gooseflesh and make Octavia shiver. Octavia nibbles at Clarke’s lip, wanting and curious and Clarke flattens her palms and drags them up to pull Octavia’s top off

She hears the creak of the rocking chair and glances out of the corner of her eye to where Bellamy’s leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, just hanging on to the neck of his beer bottle dangling between his thighs. Clarke can’t blame him, Octavia’s wearing a skimpy lace bralette. She’s got sweet, small tits, high and perky on her body and they look so inviting under the blue lace. Clarke can’t help herself, she lifts one and then the other out of the bralette, letting it lift them up further, put them on display. Octavia’s nipples are already peaked and tight when Clarke brushes her thumbs over them and the noise Octavia makes against her lips is irresistible.

Clarke pinches at her, feeling a little possessive and mean with her best friend and Octavia whines, arches up for her and Clarke bites her lip. It’s hot and fierce for a moment, Octavia grabbing at Clarke, Clarke pulling her closer by her tits and fisting a hand into her hair before they simultaneously break into giggles. Clarke leans her forehead into Octavia’s and they grin at each other, delighted and mischievous.

“Why don’t you get on your knees,” Clarke says, brushing her thumb over Octavia’s bottom lip, feeling the swell, the way it’s gotten a little bruised on her mouth.

Octavia licks at her thumb playfully before she folds to her knees, graceful like dancer, but powerful in the way she sits back and looks up at Clarke. Clarke shrugs out of her little silk cover-up and brushes Octavia’s hair behind her ears, steals the bunny ears from her head. She sneaks another glance at Bellamy, checking, and he’s watching them intently, still in a way he only goes when he’s deeply interested.

“Why don’t you,” Clarke says again, reaching behind her back to tug loose her bikini bow. “Show your brother what you can do with a nice pair of tits.” The tight lycra fabric goes loose over Clarke’s breasts and she shrugs the straps down her arms, shivers a little as the cool air of her room makes her nipples ache with how tight they are already. Her clit throbs as Bellamy makes a muffled noise from the chair.

Clarke leans forward, enough that Octavia can rise up on her knees and crane her neck up to get her mouth on one of Clarke’s nipples. Clarke moans a little at Octavia’s mouth, the way she sucks eagerly. Bellamy is all flat tongue and shock of sharp teeth when he plays with Clarke’s tits, but Octavia sucks like she wants to nurse, tongue flickering rapidly in counterpoint to the long draws of her mouth.

Clarke cups the back of Octavia’s head to support her a little more and hums, guides Octavia to her other tit and feels her breath hitch as Octavia latches on. It’s so hot, and Octavia is so eager, reaching up to cup Clarke’s tits to get a better angle.

“No,” Clarke manages, as much as she loves Octavia’s warm palms. “Hands behind your back. Don’t want Bellamy missing the view.”

Octavia whimpers into Clarke’s skin but does as she’s told and out of the corner of her eye, Clarke sees Bellamy lift his beer bottle to take a long, deep swallow.

“Good girl,” Clarke says softly to Octavia and straightens. She’s just in her bikini bottom and bunny ears now, and she’s so wet, so hungry for Octavia’s mouth on her cunt. The first time they did this, they were freshmen, drunk and fumbling, and it was just curious fingers, rubbing each other’s clits and trading kisses and uncontrollable laughter. Not much has changed, but they’d gotten better at this, bolder, more sure of each other through their friendship.

Clarke tilts her hips forward and Octavia looks like she wants to break the rules and unclasp her hands but she doesn’t. “Take them off,” Clarke says. Octavia obeys beautifully, leans forward and drags Clarke’s bottoms down to her mid thighs with her teeth before Clarke relents and lets her use her hands to finish the task.

“Shit,” Bellamy breathes, breaking his silence for the first time in a while as Octavia sits back up and leans back in to press a kiss to Clarke’s cunt.

“Yeah,” Clarke says a little absently, petting Octavia’s hair. “Octavia, you want to tell Bellamy how much you like licking cunt?”

Octavia smirks at Clarke. “I like licking cunt,” she says.

“Mm-mm,” Clarke hums stroking a hand down Octavia’s face. “Tell your brother, not me.” She pushes gently at Octavia’s chin so she turns to look at Bellamy. Octavia takes a shaky breath and Clarke wonders if this is flirting too close to the line that they won’t cross, opens her mouth to give Octavia an out, but Bellamy speaks first.

“Tell me, O,” he says, voice soft and coaxing. “You like it?”

“Yes,” Octavia says, and Clarke sees her thighs clench. “I like eating cunt.”

“Fuck,” Bellamy swears, and then. “Good girl. You gonna show me how much you like eating out my girl?”

Octavia turns her face back towards Clarke, questioning and Clarke smiles at her. “We can do that,” she agrees. “But Bellamy might also like to see how nicely you take my fingers.” She taps two fingers against Octavia’s lips. “Open.”

Octavia lets her lips part and Clarke slips her fingers into her mouth, grins at the way Octavia gives them a friendly suck hello. Clarke taps gently against her tongue, friendly and playful and Octavia bites down lightly on her fingers. “Ready?” Clarke asks her and Octavia nods, relaxes her jaw and tilts her head up ever so slightly.

Clarke pulls her fingers back to rest just inside Octavia’s mouth and then rocks them forward. Octavia closes her lips around Clarke’s fingers and sucks at them as Clarke makes a show of fucking her mouth, working deeper with two fingers and setting up a rhythm so her fingers are wet and slick with Octavia’s spit when she pulls them back and pushes in with three.

Octavia makes a soft, gagging noise at the surprise and Bellamy swears under his breath, shifts in the chair and Clarke catches Octavia’s hair. “You can take it,” she says and pushes her fingers in further. “Show Bellamy how nice you can be.”

Octavia blinks up at her, eyes a little wet from working to keep up with Clarke’s fingers, and then she makes an audible swallowing noise and relaxes her throat.

“That’s it,” Clarke praises her quietly. “That’s a good girl.” She pushes her fingers to the back of Octavia’s tongue and flirts at sneaking them down Octavia’s throat. Octavia chokes a little again but moans softly after and suckles at her fingers. “Yeah, just like you would with a cock,” Clarke encourages.

“Jesus,” Bellamy groans, his hand falling high on his inner thigh and squeezing his own muscle there. “Clarke, babe, just let her eat you out.”

“Is that what we should do?” Clarke laughs to Octavia. “Demonstrate all the ways you’re good with your mouth?”

Octavia nods, nibbles at Clarke’s fingers and Clarke pulls her fingers out but leans down to kiss Octavia again. It’s a little rougher, teeth clacking together and Octavia having to crane her neck at an odd angle to make it work, but she’s so eager to please.

“Out of your shorts,” Clarke tells her softly when she lets her mouth go. “And panties too, if you’re wearing them.”

“I’m wearing them,” Octavia snaps, with a scandalized look towards Bellamy and that makes Clarke laugh, that this right here, whether Octavia wears panties to a party, is when she gets embarrassed around her brother. Not that she’s kneeling half naked in front of his girlfriend, not that she just sucked Clarke’s fingers like Clarke’s seen her suck dick.

“Well show us,” Clarke says. “Take them off.” Octavia rises as gracefully as she kneeled, and wiggles the tight jeans easily over the small curve of her hips and down her legs, kicks them off. She’s wearing black lace panties underneath and Clarke reaches out to finger her clit through them.

“You’re wet,” Clarke says for Bellamy’s benefit. “All the way through.”

Octavia rolls her eyes at Clarke, and then pushes them down as well, lets them drop down her muscled, thin legs to the floor and then shakes back her hair. Her bralette is still caught under her tits and she makes a pretty sight, looks like a caught nymph or fairy, wild and ethereal even in this common haunt.

Bellamy’s head thunks back against the high back of the rocking chair and Clarke finds him taking them both in, affection and love and deep hunger for both of them clear in his eyes. Clarke crosses the short distance between them and pushes the rocking chair back as far as it goes without overbalancing and kisses Bellamy. He groans into her mouth and lifts his hands to cup her tits, finds her nipples still wet from Octavia’s tongue and pinches at them a little desperately.

“Mind if I sit?” Clarke asks playfully and then drops into his lap, leaning back against his chest and scooching forward so her ass is balanced right at the edge of the seat. She can feel Bellamy’s cock like this, hard in his pants and she presses back against it, wiggles a little to give him some relief before she lets her legs fall open within the cradle of his.

“Octavia,” she says gently. “Come here.”

Octavia crosses to them and waits, fingers brushing over Clarke’s kneecap, close to the inside of Bellamy’s thigh. “Kneel again,” Clarke says and when Octavia does, Clarke fits a hand around the back of her head and pulls her close to her wet cunt.

Clarke leans her head back against Bellamy’s shoulder and tilts to face him. “You want to tell her?”

“Be a good girl,” Bellamy husks, his hands landing on Clarke’s hips, at once possessive and urging her body forward toward Octavia. “And eat Clarke out.”

Octavia whimpers as she closes the distance between her and Clarke and closes her lips on Clarke’s cunt. Her mouth so wet and hot, and Clarke’s worked herself up so much that the sudden sensation makes Clarke jerk and Bellamy holds her steady. “Fuck,” Clarke whimpers, because Octavia and her brother are both rough in the way they go down on her. Octavia leans towards long, hungry licks, all the way up Clarke’s cunt, over and over until her face is wet with Clarke’s arousal and Clarke’s legs are trembling. She sucks hard on Clarke’s clit and Clarke shakes.

“Touch yourself,” Clarke gasps as she pulls one of Bellamy’s hands up to play with her tits and Octavia whines right into her cunt and drops a hand to her own clit. “Good girl, Octavia, you’re being so good.”

Bellamy’s chin is on Clarke’s shoulder and when she turns to look at him, he’s staring at Octavia working between Clarke’s legs. He has his hand on Clarke’s hip, keeping her steady and squeezing at her from time to time, and when Octavia’s hair falls forward, he catches a thin lock of it and curls his finger in it, rubs it under his thumb.

“She taking care of you?” Bellamy rasps, “She take good care of you, O?”

Octavia’s eyes flick up even as she changes tactics and flicks Clarke’s clit with just the pointed end of her tongue. She agrees on a soft, happy noise and Bellamy has to turn his face into Clarke’s neck, his exhaled breath shaky. 

“Fuck,” Clarke whines, and pulls Octavia closer. “Come on, get your tongue in me.” Octavia fucks her tongue inside Clarke and gives her short, focused jabs, getting her thumb on Clarke’s clit and rubbing it. Bellamy’s hand shifts from Clarke’s hip, settles on Clarke’s pubic bone and tugs and he pulls her lips open as he spreads his fingers over her. It opens Clarke’s cunt up so Octavia can get in deeper, make her job a little easier.

Both of them touching her at once is too much for Clarke, and she drags Octavia’s head back up so she’ll fit her mouth back on Clarke’s clit, and she moans happily. Clarke can feel her tongue on her clit, flat and hard, and where Octavia’s lips brush Bellamy’s fingers, still holding her open. It’s too much and Clarke shakes apart under her orgasm, her thighs clamping shut around Octavia’s head.

“Fuck,” she whines, overstimulated and unable to get away from Octavia in this position, no where to squirm when Bellamy is right behind her.

“You’re okay,” Bellamy murmurs in her ear, and gently pushes Octavia’s face back from Clarke’s cunt with gentle fingers on her cheek, even as his other hand urges Clarke’s legs open again so Octavia can scoot back. “Jesus Christ,” he groans when Octavia sits up and both Clarke and Bellamy can see her fingers still working on her own cunt

“Lean back,” Clarke manages, pushing at Octavia’s shoulder with her toe. “Let us watch.”

Octavia leans back on her hand and spreads her knees a little wider when Clarke taps them with her foot. She looks hot, flushed pale skin and dark hair, eyes a little hazy as she looks up at both of them. Her fingers circle her clit restlessly and she rocks up into her fingers, desperate and getting more frustrated as she can’t get there.

Clarke slides off the chair and drops down next to her. She guides Octavia’s head into her shoulder and cradles her head there as she sinks two fingers inside Octavia and fucks her with them in tandem with Octavia’s own fingers on her clit.

She looks up at Bellamy. “Tell her,” she says and Bellamy leans forward, braced again on his thighs.

“Come, O,” he says, voice gentle, “Come for me and Clarke.”

Octavia whines high in her throat, her eyes squeezed shut and her cunt clenches on Clarke’s fingers. The noise she makes when she comes is always high and breathy and Clarke holds her through her shaking.

Bellamy lets out a sharp breath and rocks back in the chair. He fights his pants open and pulls out his cock. His jerks his dick hard and fast, tugging at the head in the way Clarke knows he does when he’s worked up and wants to come fast. “That was so fucking hot,” he grits out. “The two of you, Christ. You treat each other right.”

Clarke feels Octavia’s smile against her shoulder, hidden beneath her hair and Clarke reaches out and runs a hand up Bellamy’s calf to squeeze at his thigh, her fingers wet from Octavia’s cunt. Bellamy makes a helpless noise, and comes. His come hits his chest and stomach and his breath stays ragged for a long time after.


End file.
